


dreams are reality just waiting to happen

by onceagainoncemore



Series: daydreams become reality [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: (eddie + male!myra), Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bad Jokes, Discussions of sex, Dreams, F/F, First Kiss, First Love, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Marriage Proposal, POV Eddie Kaspbrak, reddie but...lesbians, the missing years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceagainoncemore/pseuds/onceagainoncemore
Summary: “Your name is boring,” One of Bill’s friends says, a girl."Uh," Edith says."Well, hi, Eddie, I’m Richie,” The girl says, oblivious to what Edith was feeling, and holds a hand out. Edith takes it, and Richie grins. “We’re best friends now."
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: daydreams become reality [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623694
Comments: 15
Kudos: 210





	dreams are reality just waiting to happen

**Author's Note:**

> i got all my inspo from "ask me about my new material" by twoseas. holy shit was that thing good.
> 
> i started reading the it book and holy hell that thing is a trip and a half. here's what became my coping strategy to deal with that.
> 
> thanks to noonie for yelling at me to keep writing. it's all her fault. i would've given up on this 3k in if it wasnt for her. this entire fic is her fault. lov u

Eddie is not sure why she pauses her entire lunch to watch a two minute video on a woman she’s never even heard of, but she does.

The title has already revealed the woman’s name to be  _ Richie Tozier,  _ which does catch on Eddie’s deja vu - she must have had a friend with a similar name when she was younger - but even studying the woman’s face gives her no idea as to why she wants to watch the video so bad.

“I’ve heard that a lot of comedians start their sets with a dick joke,” Richie says, holding the mic to her face, leaning on the mic stand. Eddie almost clicks off, and then- “But, as a virgin, I don’t have one. Not one on me, not one on a friend. But I have received photos! So many photos! The last I got was, uh, four minutes before stepping on stage. Really got me raring to talk to thousands of people. Like,  _ if I can stand that photo without vomiting, I can 100% do this show! _ ”

The audience laughs.

“See!” Richie crows, and points to someone in the audience. “She gets me.”

Eddie does not click off. She watches the video to the end, and doesn’t laugh once. It’s funny, sure, in some parts, but the deja vu has its grips on her throat and refuses to let her make any sound.

She rewatches it over and over while she absent-mindedly eats her salad.

  
  


_ “I’m Edith,” She says to the boy sitting next to her.  _

_ “Bill,” He says, and grins. Edith feels happy - was this what a crush was? “Hey, you wanna hang out with me and my friends?” _

_ “Sure,” She says, because she doesn't have any friends of her own, and follows him to a shady grassed area, in view of the soccer fields, where two people were already bickering. Bill sits anyway, so Edith assumes these are the friends. “Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Edith.” _

_ “Your name is boring,” One of Bill’s friends says, a girl.  _

_ “Uh,” Edith says. She doesn’t know how to react to that. There’s something burning in her chest, and her eyes feel itchy. She has always hated her name, but all of her family tells her how pretty it was. Was it not pretty? _

_ “Well, hi, Eddie, I’m Richie,” The girl says, oblivious to what Edith was feeling, and holds a hand out. Edith takes it, and Richie grins. “We’re best friends now.” _

_ “Are you cool with being called that?" Bill asks, and Edith pauses.  _

_ “I- I never liked Edith,” Eddie admits, and Richie grins, big and wide. Eddie feels that same happiness that came with Bill’s smile, something bigger, brighter, and Eddie allows it to force a matching grin on her face. _

  
  


Eddie wakes. When she opens her eyes, it’s still dark.

“Nightmare, darling?” Her fiance, Malcolm asks. He reaches out an arm, and Eddie shuffles away. She’d woken up hot and flushed, and didn’t want to deal with the inevitable sweat that came with cuddling.

“Don’t remember,” She says. It’s a lie, and then it isn’t, and Eddie can’t remember even the general theme of the dream.

  
  


“I really would prefer if you didn’t work, Edith,” Malcolm says the next morning, in a stupidly reasonable tone, and Eddie huffs. “Darling, you’re already so sick. Work is a major factor in stress, which you know can lead to higher rates of heart illnesses! And, Edith-bear, stress is not good for fertility, you know. You’re already having nightmares. You need to have a break before something bad happens.”

Eddie has said nothing about wanting children. But-

Malcolm was right. What if she did end up wanting children, but couldn’t because she stressed herself out so much in her twenties that her body simply couldn’t handle being pregnant? Being pregnant already had so many issues.

“I can support us with just my job, darling,” Malcolm says, and hugs her, so she can see nothing but the fabric of his shirt. “You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“I’ll work from home to start,” She agrees. “And then, when we’re married, we can discuss it further.”

Malcolm doesn’t say anything for a couple minutes.

“I love you,” He says, finally.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “Love you too.”

  
  


_ “When me and Eddie get married-” Richie says, at the very second Eddie drops into the clubhouse. Richie stutters her next sentence out, the words unrecognizable, waving her long arms around, knocking a pile of books to the ground. _

_ “Who says we’ll get married?” Eddie asks, and sticks her middle finger up, and takes her spot on the hammock. _

_ “Who says you two can get married?” Stan reminds them, gently, looking up from his bio textbook. “Two girls can’t marry each other. Not in Maine, at least.” _

_ Bev nods wisely, and Ben does also, although he looks more regretful. _

_ Whatever Richie wanted to say has left her - she’s slumped down against a wall, and rifling through the books she spilt for something to read. She doesn’t look openly devastated, or upset, but Eddie can see through Richie’s mask. _

_ “They’ll be able to,” Eddie says.  _

_ Richie shrugs, and tosses one of the books at her. Eddie catches it, barely, and then spends more time looking at Richie than reading. _

  
  


Eddie wakes up alone, so she pulls out her dream journal. She’d been trying to record everything, just to see if there was a pattern.

**Marriage,** she writes, and then-  **Can’t get married?**

When she blinks, and rereads the words she’s written, she doesn’t remember a thing about the dream. Was she dreaming about her upcoming wedding again? Why wouldn’t she be able to get married?

She puts the journal back into her bedside table, and covers it with a couple of trinkets. 

  
  


They have the wedding in the middle of July, so Malcolm’s nieces and nephews can come. Eddie feels far too hot in her long-sleeved dress, and her thighs have been rubbing together painfully for hours, but she smiles for the photos, and thanks everyone who tells her that she’s very lucky to have pinned Malcolm down.

“Are you changing your name?” Malcolm’s aunt asks, finishing what Eddie thinks is her fifth glass of champagne. 

“I’m keeping Kaspbrak,” Eddie says. “I have a lot of clients who know me by that name, and uh, it’s just something that I always said I’d keep for my dad.”

She hums, an eyebrow raised.

“What did Malc say to that?” She asks, and Eddie smiles.

“He agreed.” Eddie says. The woman hums again, noncommittal, and Eddie feels a brief shock of - it’s not fear, but something similar. Would Malcolm want her to change her name? Would she listen to him if she did? 

Eddie couldn’t remember her dad, but at the same time she could - she remembered, vaguely, a time where her mother wasn’t hovering over her, a time where she could be a child. Her father needed someone to remember him, and Eddie was going to be that person.

“Lovely dress,” The aunt says, and then walks away to the bar.

  
  


When Malcolm isn’t home, Eddie has taken to watching Richie Tozier videos. 

Her humour does not evolve - in fact, it drops, so suddenly Eddie looks up whether the woman’s family had had some issues. But Eddie keeps watching, and listening, and consuming every piece of media that Richie stars in.

“I’ve never been in love,” Richie will start her set, and then publicly reveal her breakup the next day, and it’s so fucking trashy that Eddie goes on a brutal detox diet, simply to see whether her gut bacteria was causing her immense fascination with this woman.

It does not help.

It isn’t an issue. Plenty of people have celebrity crushes, or obsessions with famous people. It was not an issue.

It becomes an issue when she begins to remember her dreams.

Eddie does not remember her dreams for longer than a couple minutes. She’s talked it through with a therapist, although she no longer goes, and she knows it might be her childhood trauma she also couldn’t remember or that she’s just one of those people who don’t.

But she can picture every tiny detail of these dreams, even  _ days  _ afterwards.

Sex with Malcolm had died well and truly before their wedding, which Eddie was fine with. Malcolm had brushed it off as side-effects from her medication, and Eddie didn’t argue. She knew she didn’t need an excuse to not want sex, but at the same time, she was glad she had one.

Sex with Richie Tozier was now appearing in her dreamland at least twice a week.

She’d tried asking about the dreams on Google, and a bunch of forums (omitting the fact that the dreams were over some low-brow comedian) which all, quite directly, tell her she should look into at the very least bisexuality. 

Eddie doesn’t. 

She married a man. She was in love with him or, at least, she had been once. This was just- just a phase. If that wasn’t offensive. Her mother had never let her explore much. She was just making up for lost time.

  
  


_ “Baby,” Richie whispers into her ear. “Are you coming over tonight, or are we rendezvous-ing at yours?” _

_ Eddie shoves her away. _

_ “Don’t call me that!” She says, instead of answering. Richie had already told her about her plans to sneak into Eddie’s house. She just wanted Eddie to blush. _

_ She was succeeding, but Eddie was going to win this game today. _

_ “Although, someone will be coming tonight,” Eddie murmurs, when Richie is about to take a breath from Bev’s cigarette. She chokes, and Eddie allows herself a brief nanosecond of victory before fussing over Richie’s bad airways and lungs. _

  
  


Eddie spends breakfast thinking over her ex-relationships. She had dated someone - the details on his looks and name were fuzzy - just before Malcolm, who was lovely, but moved away due to an exchange program. There was no one else. No one else she could remember.

She thinks, ever-so-briefly, about messaging her mother, but doesn’t. Her mom wouldn’t tell her about any of her old relationships, especially if Eddie had hidden them, which she had a gut feeling that she did.

“What are you worrying about?” Malcolm asks.

“Just old friends,” Eddie says, and takes a bite of banana so she doesn’t have to answer Malcolm’s questioning look.

  
  


Eddie only feels a little bad when she searches  **_am i bisexual lesbian straight quiz_ ** after waiting a customary four minutes when Malcolm leaves for work. 

The quiz, very happily, decorated in rainbows and smiley faces, tells her that there’s a very strong probablity that she is homosexual.

Eddie turns her laptop off.

  
  


_ “Ever thought about cutting your hair?” Richie asks, and drags a hand through Eddie’s hair, catching on a tangle. Eddie squeals, and bats Richie away. _

_ “Get your gross hands away!” Eddie shrieks, and Richie cackles. “And no. My mom wouldn’t let me cut it. ‘Specially not short how I would like it.” _

_ “I think you’d look super cute with it short,” Richie says, and places her hand on Eddie’s cheek. “Cute, cute, cute! Cutest girl in America.” _

_ “Shut up,” Eddie says, and falls backwards onto her bed, throwing a pillow over her face. “Anyway, everyone at school would call me a dyke.” _

_ “Ain’t nothing wrong with that,” Richie says, with one of her stupid voices. And then, normally- “Is there?” _

_ “No,” Eddie says. “I just-” _

_ “Bullying?” Richie says.  _

_ “I just don’t want people to know,” Eddie says, and then winces. _

_ “Eddie.” Richie says. Eddie moves the pillow off her face, and looks at Richie. She’s smiling, soft, with her eyes crinkled, and doesn’t look disgusted, or confused, or anything. “Eddie, not to piggyback on your moment,” _

_ “But you fucked my mom?” Eddie asks. _

_ “Yeah, because I’m a lesbian.” Richie says, and falls to land next to Eddie. “You should cut your hair. I’ll cut mine too.” _

_ Eddie grins, and nods. _

  
  


“I want to cut my hair,” Eddie says when Malcolm gets home. “You won’t need to drive me. I can walk. Or bus. The bus schedules have updated, did you read?”

“Edith,” Malcolm says. “Buses are the least hygienic form of transport, I am not letting you onto one of those- those  _ cesspools  _ of germs, and bacteria, and, and, diseases. And cut your hair? Darling, we can cut your hair at home. Trimming is no big deal. It won’t matter too much if it is uneven.”

“No,” Eddie starts, and then sighs. “I want my hair short. I’ve had it short before and I just miss it!”

“Edith,” Malcolm says. “Why would you want it short? You know what they say about women with short hair and you’re- you’re not like that at all. And it looks so lovely! I can’t imagine why you’d want it gone.”

Eddie’s shoulders slump, and she waves Malcolm off.

“Just missing college, I guess,” She says, and Malcolm is still giving her weird looks when they get ready for bed.

  
  


Eddie sees a Facebook post from an old college friend - just a ridiculous motivational quote, decorated with the photos he had taken on his trip to Hawaii. It just read  _ Are you happy?  _ and then  _ Make decisions for you, not anyone else. _

All stuff Eddie had read before, but this time, it sticks into her brain.

Am I happy? She thinks, when she wakes in the morning, and Malcolm is already gone for work, swallowing her pills and going to spend her time cleaning the bathroom.

“Am I happy?” She asks the mirror when she’s done brushing her teeth. The mirror doesn’t answer.

She tells her doctor that she doesn’t think she’s felt a positive emotion for maybe years. He adjusts her already existing medication, asks her to think about getting tested for depression, and sends her home with a couple activities to try to improve her mental health.

She doesn’t feel happier going for walks. She’s not happier eating foods she would normally feel guilty over eating. She’s not happier spending more time with Malcolm. She is, however, a little happier away from her husband.

**_Should I get a divorce?,_ ** she searches one day. And then after reading only one article, she searches  **_Divorce steps NYC._ **

  
  


All of the clothes Eddie had used to wear while going to bars and parties have been thrown out. At least, that is what she assumes, because they’re missing from the box in her closet. All her heels, skirts, tight t-shirts. Stuff she hated to wear but did anyway.

She hated the stuff. Why was she so mad? She was going to get rid of them anyway. Malcolm had probably just guessed that’s what she wanted. 

There was another possibility for her clothes being missing, but she pushes it to the back of her head.

She sighs, and leaves her jeans and cardigan on. She looks at herself in the bedroom mirror - her braided hair hanging past her breasts, far longer than what it was last time she went drinking, her un-makeuped face, the bags under her eyes, her ring. She wasn’t meeting anyone. She didn’t need to dress up.

She takes her ring off, and leaves it on the bedside table.

The walk to the bar takes longer than it should, but Eddie just wants to be out of the house right now. She’s never felt wanderlust before, but she feels itchy and ready to run at any second.

“Just an apple juice, please,” She asks the bartender as she sits in one of the stools. He nods, and when he turns his back she attempts to discreetly wipe the surface of the bar in front of her with a wet-wipe. 

“Hey cutie,” Someone says, behind her, and Eddie tries to stifle her groan. She hated hearing people flirt. Second hand embarrassment was a real thing, and it physically hurt to hear men go about their failing love lives. “Uh, you, in the cardigan? Hey.”

She turns, and hears the clink of her glass being put down. The woman smiles, and shoves her hand out towards Eddie. Eddie looks at her in the eye, refusing to shake hands. The woman is familiar. Eddie squints.

It couldn’t be Richie Tozier.

Woman-who-is-not-Richie slides onto the stool next to Eddie, and grins.

“I’m Richie,” She says, and Eddie takes a large gulp of her juice, desperately wishing she had ordered alcohol, even if it was bad for her liver. “Whatcha drinking, sweetcheeks?”

“Juice,” Eddie mumbles, and pinches the back of her left hand, just to see if this was another very detailed dream about Tozier. She doesn’t wake up. She’s not sure whether she’s thankful or horrified over that.

“Oh shit,” Richie says. Eddie looks up at Richie, who suddenly looks sheepish, guilty, and who stands up from her stool. Richie holds her hands out, and backs away. “I thought you were older, I’m so sorry kiddo-”

“I’m thirty-one!” Eddie says. Richie makes a disbelieving face. Eddie fumbles through her wallet, and brandishes her driver’s license. “If this was a scheme to get my name, or- or my address, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Huh, born same year,” Richie says, and then winces. “Sorry, darling, you just look so young! And innocent! Thought I was hitting on a high school child. I may be  _ the _ Trashmouth Tozier, but I wouldn’t stoop so low.”

Eddie swallows, and then gestures to the seat Richie had just left.

“Sit.” Eddie says, and then takes another swallow of her juice. “I’m Edith. Wait, fuck, don’t call me that. I’m, uh, Eddie.”

“Well, Eds,” Richie says, and sits down. Eddie scowls at the nickname. “Most people jump at the opportunity to send me away. What a fascinating girl- sorry, fascinating thirty-one year old woman you are.”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie says, and flags the bartender. “Rum and coke, please.”

“Old-fashioned,” Richie says. Richie stays silent as Eddie gets carded, but giggles when the bartender moves away. “I was right! You look like a little catholic school girl. It’s cute, don’t worry.”

“I’m not cute,” Eddie says, and drains the rest of her juice. If she’d known she’d be meeting Richie fucking Tozier, she would’ve downed, at the very least, a bottle of wine before she came. She can feel the butterflies in her stomach and throat, making her hands and knees shaky. Her drink rattles against the wood as she puts it down slowly, not wanting for her hands to be free.

“You’re right,” Richie says. “You’re beautiful.”

Eddie looks away.

“Too much?”

“No,” Eddie says. “Just not used to it.”

“Ghastly offence! Who the fuck is out here not appreciating your beauty? Hang on, hand your phone over,” Richie says. Eddie wrinkles her nose. “So I can put my number in! I think- no, I know I want to see you again, but I’ll give you the power in whether or not that happens. See, I’m a gentleman!” 

Eddie hands her phone over, unlocked. Richie types in her number, and is still finding emojis to put in her name when their drinks arrive.

Eddie does not want to seem desperate - especially not in front of her celebrity crush, which, seeing as Richie wasn’t properly mentioning it Eddie wasn’t going to either, so she hides her smile by drinking some, and then fussing around with her phone when Richie hands it over.

“I think I want to see you again too,” Eddie says, and doesn’t remove any of the six different hearts Richie has with her contact name. 

“Oh, a thinker!” Richie says. “Snagged myself a smart one?”

Eddie grins, and shoves at Richie’s shoulder. There’s a brief second where Eddie thinks she’s done the wrong thing - Malcolm had told her off for doing the same thing so many times, but Richie just laughs and shoves back.

  
  


Malcolm is home when Eddie arrives back, and is still up. 

“Edith,” He says. “Have you been out drinking? You know what alcohol does to healthy livers, which yours isn’t, and you know that your body struggles to-”

“I’m fine,” Eddie says. She’s still a little giddy from meeting Richie, and barely even notices Malcolm’s annoyed expression over being interrupted. She pulls a flavoured soda water out of the fridge, and goes for a drink of it, but Malcolm pulls it out of her hand.

“Edith,” He repeats. “You need to go sleep.”

“What? I’m fine,” Eddie says. “It’s barely eight o’ clock, and I’ve only had one drink.”

“We’re trying to have a child, Edith!” Malcolm says, hissing her name. “You shouldn’t be drinking anything! Alcohol has the possibility to impact conception, darling, you know this!”

“A- a child? We’re not trying to have a child! I never agreed to that! We haven’t even had sex in months, Malcolm, we’re not having a child!” Eddie says, and it comes out louder than what she thought it would. She relishes in it though, how her voice echoes and seems to hit Malcolm, stunning him. “I’m- I want a divorce.”

“You’re drunk,” Malcolm says. “Go to sleep, Edith.”

“I’m not drunk!” Eddie says. “I had a single drink three hours ago! I’m not a lightweight- I’m not drunk, and I want a divorce! I have a perfectly clear mind, Malcolm, and I want a divorce!”

“Go to bed,” Malcolm says, sighing defeatedly, in that same way Eddie’s mom had done whenever she had argued against a rule. It makes Eddie’s stomach curl. “Just- go to bed, Edith. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Eddie sticks her chin out, and snatches her drink back. She goes up the stairs to the guest bedroom, ignoring Malcolm’s calls.

  
  


“Hello,” Eddie says, smoothing out the piece of paper she’d taken from her local grocer’s notice board. It reads  **One Bdrm, One Bath, 800$ a week.** “This is Eddie Kaspbrak. I’m calling about the apartment?”

“Which one?” An elderly voice asks.

“One bedroom, one bath, New York?” Eddie says, and the woman hmm’s and ah’s.

“You’re in luck, sweetie. When do you want to move in?” The old lady asks, and Eddie bites down on her cheek. 

“Three days?” Eddie says, and her voice cracks.

“I can do that,” The lady says, her voice gentle and understanding, and Eddie almost starts to cry. “Meet with me tomorrow to discuss payment. At the apartment, if you would like?”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, and when the conversation is finished, she cries properly, sobbing, and yet she feels happy.

  
  


_ “My mom would never let me go,” Eddie says, looking at the ticket in her hand. It was for a small music festival, something Richie had spent months saving up for. Eddie had been so excited when Richie told her about it, but then they’d remembered Eddie’s mother. “She hates crowds, and festivals, and- and all of my friends. You know there’s always drugs at these places, and she’d kill me if she found-” _

_ “Eds,” Richie says. “You got high with me last week.” _

_ Eddie brushes her pointer finger over the ticket. A gift from Richie. _

_ “I’ll go,” Eddie says. “I’ll have to- we’ll have to find one of the Losers’ parents who’ll back us and tell my mom that I’m with them. But. I’ll go.” _

_ Richie cheers, and picks Eddie up, spinning her around.  _

  
  


**_Music,_ ** Eddie writes in her dream journal the next morning.  **_Festival date._ **

She’s never even listened to music with Malcolm before. She doesn’t know what kind of music he likes, or if he likes her songs, or anything.

  
  


**TO <3 <3 <3 RICH <3 <3 <3: ** _ Hey, this is Eddie. _

Eddie pauses, and then changes the name.  _ Desperate, desperate.  _

**FROM RICHIE:** _ eddie!!! i was worried u wouldnt message!!! hows the cutest girl ever?? _

**TO RICHIE:** _ I’m good. Do you want to meet for coffee? _

**FROM RICHIE:** _ babe i would murder someone for the chance to have coffee with you _

**FROM RICHIE:** _ where do u wanna meet? _

**TO RICHIE:** _ I’ll send you the address to my favourite cafe. _

**FROM RICHIE:** _ u text so cute youre like an old man _

  
  


Richie looks up from her giant, pink coloured slush of a drink. It’s been silent for a couple minutes, but Eddie is enjoying it. 

“Should’ve known you were a coffee snob,” Richie says, chuckling, and gestures to Eddie’s espresso. 

“I- I used to think I was allergic to milk,” Eddie confesses, although she’s not sure why, and takes a sip of her said coffee-snob drink. “So I never drunk anything else growing up.”

“But you’re not?” Richie asks, and slurps at her own drink. Eddie shakes her head.

“Just something I think my mom did so I wouldn’t eat ice-cream,” Eddie says, and laughs, although it’s never been funny to her. Why would her mother lie about Eddie’s allergies? If she lied about this, what else did she lie about? Richie doesn’t laugh, just leans on to her elbows and steals Eddie’s espresso.

“Just a sip,” Richie says, and doesn’t even get it to her mouth before her face is screwed up in disgust. Eddie properly laughs, and Richie joins in, giving her back her espresso as fast as possible. “Now I was never told I had any fake allergies - although, I do have real ones. So I only drink sugary bullshit!”

Richie raises her drink as a toast, and Eddie clinks her mug against the plastic.

  
  


“Am I happy?” She asks her hallway mirror when she gets home. Her cheeks are flushed, most likely from the walk. She’s smiling, a little uncontrollably, and she doesn’t want to stop. Her chest is warm, and even though the walk was longer than what Eddie usually does, she doesn’t feel tired.

The mirror doesn’t respond.

Her ring is where she left it before, still on her bedside table. Malcolm hasn’t noticed that it was missing yet. Her hand felt light, free, and Eddie grins.

“I’m happy,” She says. “I’m going to be happy.”

  
  


Malcolm comes home to Eddie’s entire wardrobe being shoved into the three suitcases they own. He stands there for a minute, while Eddie goes through the jackets, and only speaks when Eddie doesn’t even touch her wedding dress.

“What are you doing?” He says.

“You can have the house,” Eddie says, and throws her armful of sweaters into the emptiest suitcase. They’re almost all full, but Eddie doesn’t have a lot left to take from the house. All she needs now is her medications, and her toiletries, and maybe her collection of earrings, and then she’s ready to leave. “I don’t want it.”

“What?” He says. He finally moves, and grabs Eddie’s arm. It hurts, and she tears it away.

“I’m leaving,” She says, as if it isn’t obvious. “I said I wanted a divorce, and I meant it. I’m leaving.”

“You are not leaving me!” Malcolm says, and holds her shoulders tight. “You are not leaving. You’re sick, darling, you can’t leave. I’m the only one who knows how to take care of you. You can’t leave.”

“I can! I can leave, and I’m going to!” Eddie says, and pushes against Malcolm’s arms. They drop, and Eddie goes to their adjoining bathroom, throwing medications and toothbrushes into her toiletry bag. Malcolm watches. Eddie thinks he’s crying, maybe, but she doesn’t look at him. 

Malcolm is holding onto two of her suitcases. He isn’t crying, and doesn’t let her take the cases. Eddie snatches the one he can’t hold onto, and storms out of the bedroom. 

Malcolm chases after her.

“Bye Malcolm,” She says, and slams the front door. It feels good. She catches a cab to her new apartment, and doesn’t think at all about how dirty the interior is. She feels good. “I’m happy.”

“That’s good, ma’am,” The cab driver says.

“Isn’t it?” Eddie says, and she doesn’t even attempt to stop the smile that crawls its way onto her face.

  
  


_ “No!” Eddie yells, and throws her bottle of pills to the ground. “They’re bullshit!” _

_ Her mom’s glare, normally enough to quieten Eddie, only fuels the white-hot rage Eddie feels all through her body, from her fingers to her knees to her mouth. She can’t control what comes out of her mouth, but she likes it. _

_ “They’re fake! You’ve been lying to me my entire life! You used these as an excuse to keep me away from the only people that truly love me! I hate you!” Eddie screams, and her mother starts crying. Eddie is almost crying also, her eyes hot, but she sticks her chin out. “You don’t love me.” _

_ “I do, Edith,” Her mom starts, but Eddie is walking away. She needs to find her friends. “Edith!” _

  
  


**TO RICHIE:** _ Are you busy tonight? I have something to tell you. _

**FROM RICHIE:** _ uhhhhhh yeah? meet at the bar where we met? _

**TO RICHIE:** _ I’ll see you soon. _

  
  


“I’m actually getting a divorce,” Eddie says, almost the second Richie sits down in the booth Edie has saved. They both stare at each other, Richie’s mouth opened wide.

“I know this isn’t Vegas,” Richie starts, still wide-eyed. “But I swear, if we’ve gotten married, let’s therapy our way about it. No need for drastic measures. I may not look like it, but I do know how to wash a dish or two.”

It sounds like a joke, but doesn’t feel like one.

“No-” Eddie says, and sighs, and puts her head in her hands. “I’m actually- I’m still married to my-”

Richie’s watching her with big worried eyes, and it makes Eddie feel so much worse about thinking of saying that Malcolm was her  _ abuser.  _

Because- because Malcolm was nice. They hadn’t worked, clicked, had a spark, that was all. Eddie had encouraged him to play the leading role in the relationship, and showed no signs that she was unfulfilled. Equal fault.

“My husband,” She finishes, and downs the cup of water, and pours another, avoiding eye contact. “I know that’s a lot to deal with. Yeah. I wanted to say so when I get caught in legal proceedings, or if his friends do something, you know- I wanted you to know, so you don’t feel bad for me or whatever if you found out later.”

Richie doesn’t say anything, and Eddie refuses to let herself look up.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. “That was just- a lot. I’m sorry. I can, uh, go-”

“No,” Richie says. “Don’t go.”

Eddie looks up, and Richie smiles.

“I’ve just never been a homewrecker before. What a lovely feeling. Will I get addicted to the adrenaline?” She says, and Eddie groans. “Too soon? Uh, I’ll get us something to drink. Juice?”

“What, to deal with you? Get me at least a wine,” Eddie says, but smiles, to soften her words. Richie seems to be able to read between the lines, and grins back, and saunters off to the bar to order something. 

  
  


Eddie has only been living by herself for a couple days, but she loves it. She orders a stupid poster of the quote her old friend had posted, buys stuffed animals to cuddle with at night, and calls her job, asking if she can start coming in to work again. It’s a massive  _ YES,  _ and Eddie dances, celebrating with a glass of wine, to her 80s playlist, which is constantly running in the background now.

She doesn’t have any friends to share the news with - Eddie’s never been one for talking, or making small talk, and everyone she did talk to now lives in Australia, or Singapore, or has unfriended her on Facebook, so she texts Richie a photo of the apartment.

**TO RICHIE:** _ New apartment.  _

**FROM RICHIE:** _ looking good!!! bet itd look better with me there tho _

**TO RICHIE:** _ I’ll hold you to that.  _

She texts Richie her address. Her breath is shaky, and her hands are so shaky it takes minutes to type out her next message.

**TO RICHIE:** _ Date night at mine?  _

**FROM RICHIE:** _ hhholy shit ma a pretty girl just invited me over to her house do i wear the hawaiian shirt or the flannel _

**FROM RICHIE:** _ ill be over at 5, sweetheart _

**TO RICHIE:** _ Flannel.  _

  
  


Richie does wear flannel, a green and red monstrosity with a happy santa printed on the chest pocket. Eddie sighs when she sees it, and lets Richie inside, eyeing the patches Richie had sewn into the back.

“It’s horrifying,” Eddie says, even though Richie somehow looks good in it. Richie skips into the tiny living room, and takes up three-quarters of the matching small couch. “It’s October, why the fuck are you wearing a Christmas shirt?”

Richie shrugs, and then spreads her arms.

“I knew it,” Richie says. “This whole place looks so much better with a little Richie.”

Eddie doesn’t deny that.

“I had some horror movies on,” Eddie says, instead, and then- “But if you don’t like horror movies, I have a couple classics. And The Nightmare Before Christmas. Uh, and there’s always pirating, I suppose, so whatever you want to watch-”

“Horror’s fine,” Richie says, and pats the couch. Eddie’s already put out drinks, and snacks, so there’s no excuse for not sitting down. She sits, and Richie’s arm is immediately around her. “I didn’t think you’d be into horror, Eds.”

“Just because I’m short doesn’t mean I’m a wimp!” Eddie says. Richie laughs, and grabs the remote from Eddie’s side of the couch. She plays the movie, and settles back. Her arm pushes against Eddie just a little too roughly, so Eddie shuffles closer so she’s more comfortable.

Richie intertwines their hands, and it’s all Eddie can think about for the rest of the movie.

When it finishes, Eddie goes to stand up. Richie stops her, and uses the hand she’s holding to drag Eddie down, just a little.

“Can I kiss you?” Richie says. Eddie kisses her first.

  
  


_ “When did you know you liked girls?” Eddie asks, because none of the other losers are in the clubhouse. She’s sure none of them will mind, but it’s hard enough to say it out loud to herself, or even to Richie, who knows the struggle as well. _

_ “That summer,” Richie says, and doesn’t explain more. Eddie knows what she’s talking about. _

_ “Me too,” Eddie says, and wishes so hard that they’re thinking of the same moment her chest hurts. Richie rolls over in the hammock to look at Eddie, and her eyes are soft, magnified by her glasses.. _

_ “The summer we all fell in love with Big Bill,” Richie says, and Eddie feels- she’s not sure.  _

_ “Who was it?” Eddie asks, before she can stop herself. _

_ “The bravest girl I’ve ever met,” Richie says, and gets out of the hammock. She walks closer, and Eddie’s heartache increases. “You?” _

_ “You,” Eddie spits out. Richie blinks.  _

_ “I’m going to kiss you,” Richie says, and Eddie nods. They’re silent, still, the air frozen around them, and then Richie leans forward, and kisses Eddie. _

  
  


**_First kiss,_ ** Eddie writes in her new dream journal. She left the other one with Malcolm, but there’s nothing too revealing in it, she thinks.

Whatever the dream was is gone when she rereads the words, as it always is. Had she really dreamed of her kiss with Richie? It seemed likely. Her recurring not-safe-for-conversations-with-Richie dreams hadn’t stopped since she met the real Richie, and her subconscious replaying moments that had actually happened wasn’t surprising. 

  
  


"I suppose you've already researched my background," Richie says, and taps her fingers on the back of her phone. It echoes through Eddie's speakers. "You seem the type to background check."

"I, uh," Eddie starts. "I already knew who you were when we met. I've been watching your shows since, uh, 2008, I think."

"Holy shit, really?" Richie laughs. "You ever buy a ticket to one of my shows, babe?"

"No," Eddie says. "I'm hanging up."

"Holy shit, did you have a crush on me? My 2008 shows were a mess, I can't believe you-" Eddie hangs up.

**FROM RICHIE:** _ you did!!! omg thats the cutest thing ever  _

**TO RICHIE:** _ I'm going to murder you. Tell me your address. _

  
  


Richie’s apartment is nice. It’s big, but filled to the brim of odd knick-knacks, posters, and clothes, and so much junk the rooms seem at least four times smaller than they actually are. Eddie thinks she loves it, but her hands itch to clean everything.

“I have- Before you kill me, I have something to tell you,” Richie starts, then stands up, walks to the kitchen, and comes back with a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses. They’re novelty shot glasses, Eddie realises, as she watches Richie pour a shot into a glass with boobs, and then into one shaped like a flamingo. Richie gives her the flamingo glass. Richie downs hers, and sighs. “I’m not out.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, and drinks hers. It burns, and she coughs. “Me neither.”

“Which means-” Richie says, sighs, and takes another shot. “Fuck, I. I wouldn’t be able to talk about you in interviews, my set, whatever. You’d be my, my, my  _ dirty little secret _ .”

“Richie,” Eddie says, and holds her glass out for some more. Richie pours it, her arms shaky, and Eddie drinks half. “Is it sappy if I say I just want to try being with you? I don’t want to be famous, or known as your- your lesbian lover, or whatever. Maybe it’s for the best.”

“It’s sappy, dork,” Richie says, smiles, and leans over to kiss Eddie. Eddie raises her hand, and blocks it.

“I hate that fucking shot glass, though,” Eddie says. “That might be a dealbreaker.”

Richie snorts, and Eddie takes pity on her, and kisses her softly.

  
  


“Merry Christmas,” Richie says, and shoves the present into Eddie’s face. Eddie takes it, takes note of the weight - too heavy to be jewellery, or perfume. Richie smiles, which fades, when Eddie doesn’t move. “Eds?”

“Thank you,” Eddie says. She thinks of the present she’d gotten Richie - three shirts, all of them in Richie’s style but not as ugly, and feels out the weight of the present again. “Oh, come in. I’ll get- I’ll get yours.”

“Not big on decorating?” Richie asks, and waves her hand at the general lack of Christmas in Eddie’s apartment. Eddie had placed tinsel on one of her house plants, put Richie’s present underneath, and had called it a day.

“It’s not something I like thinking about,” Eddie says. Richie seems to somber at that, and then makes grabby hands for the present under Eddie’s fern.

“Is that for me?” Richie says, and Eddie nods. Richie skips over to it, and shakes it, like an excited toddler on Christmas morning. It was sweet. “Oh, you’ve put it in a box so I couldn’t feel it out. Smart, Eddie.”

“Open at the same time?” Eddie says, and sits on the ground, leaning against her coffee table. Richie sits next to her, and nods. Eddie opens hers carefully, making sure she doesn’t rip the paper too much, and Richie starts by tearing it open, but attempts to be careful after watching Eddie.

“It’s a horror book,” Richie says, when Eddie picks her present up. “William Denbrough, he’s supposed to be good. And you like horror, so. The lady at the bookshop said you’d like it.”

Eddie grins, and pulls out the rest of items from her present. There’s a set of hair ribbons, in Eddie’s favourite colours - which she’s not sure she’s told Richie, but it’s nice to see anyway. There’s also a pill bottle, but where the prescription should read instead it says  **_quotes to keep the cutest girl moving_ ** . Eddie twists the cap open, and a couple of the ‘pills’ fall out. She pops one open, and the paper that comes out reads  _ Do more of what makes you happy. _

“I love you,” Eddie says, and she freezes. Richie does as well, and they look at each other. The shirts in Richie’s arms haven’t even been touched yet.

“I-” Richie starts, and then looks to her present. Something in the patterns softens the surprise on Richie’s face, and when she looks back, she’s grinning. “I love you too. Did you get me a circus zebra shirt? Fuck, I love you.”

Eddie laughs, and tugs on said shirt. It’s the worst looking one out of all that Eddie bought, but she’d had a feeling Richie would like it. It’s a white button up, with little zebras wearing party hats.

“Wear it on a date and I’ll kill you,” Eddie says. And then- “I love you.”

“Love ya, my little santa’s helper,” Richie says, and Eddie tackles her, grabbing her stomach and pushing her to the ground. Richie yelps, then laughs.

  
  


_ “Merry Christmas,” Richie whispers, when Eddie opens her window. Richie crawls in, her long legs catching on the tree outside, and Eddie tries to shush her quietly. “I brought you a present, Eddie Spaghetti.” _

_ “Don’t call me that,” Eddie says, and closes the window once Richie is fully inside. Richie has gotten so tall - she’s the tallest girl in their entire school, and she’s taller than most of the boys also, including Mike and Ben. Richie likes to joke that she had sucked the growth out of Eddie through her mouth and neck, which isn’t funny, but the Losers always laughed. “And why?” _

_ “Because you’re the love of my life?” Richie says, and kisses Eddie. “Here.” _

_ Richie hands over a small package, wrapped in newspaper. Eddie opens it. It’s a small notebook, barely palm-sized. Eddie opens it - the first page reads  _ **_eddie, my love._ ** _ The next is a playlist, then after a poem, and then a small drawing of Eddie. _

_ “Thank you,” Eddie says, and places the notebook on her bedside table. Then she turns to Richie, and presents her gift. Richie takes it - Eddie didn’t wrap it, because her mom would be suspicious of her taking wrapping paper, so Richie just holds up the cassette, grinning. _

_ “I love you,” Richie says.  _

_ “Get out of my room,” Eddie says. “My mom will call me down for dinner any time now.” _

_ Richie opens the window, and half crawls out. She’s waiting. Eddie sighs. _

_ “I love you too,” Eddie says, and Richie fully climbs out, and then down the tree, and then waves to Eddie until she’s no longer in sight. Eddie blows a kiss when she knows Richie can’t see. _

  
  


**_Christmas,_ ** Eddie writes in her journal, and sighs. The movement wakes Richie, who moans.

“Too early,” Richie says, and feels around for Eddie. She slaps her hand onto Eddie’s chest, and pushes her back down. “Go back to sleep.”

Eddie does.

  
  


“I can’t make next week’s date,” Richie says. Eddie frowns over her croissant, and lets Richie take her hand under the table. “I’m going on tour! How exciting! I- I tried to reschedule it so I could there for your finalization, but apparently people want refunds when that happens, so?”

“That’s okay,” Eddie says, and she means it. “How long for?”

“Three weeks,” Richie says. She’s pouting. “It’s not a massive tour. Just- just far enough away I can’t see you.”

“Phones exist,” Eddie says, and Richie’s pout grows.

“I can’t see you properly on a phone, let alone  _ touch  _ you!” Richie groans. “I should get an adult boring job like you.”

“You’d suck at an adult job,” Eddie says, and Richie laughs, because it’s the truth. Even if Richie doesn’t really write much of her material anymore, she’s still happier than she would be if she had a job like Eddie. “Have fun.”

“I won’t, not with you,” Richie says, and Eddie wants to kiss her. They’re in public, so Eddie just squeezes Richie’s hand and hopes she knows what she means.

  
  


“Hey Richie,” Eddie says, the second Richie picks up. She runs a hand through her new short hair, and smiles. “How are you?”

“Missing you,” Richie groans.

“Yeah, I miss you too,” Eddie says. “But I have something to tell you.”

“Did we get a dog? Holy shit, do we have a dog? Did you secretly move in and buy us a dog?” Richie squeals, and they both laugh. 

“The divorce is finalised,” Eddie says, and Richie whoops. Eddie wait for the mini-celebration to die down, and then- “And I cut my hair.”

“Eddie!” Richie screams. “You cut your hair without me! How the fuck am I supposed to survive for another two weeks without seeing you! You have to send me photos! God, all my masturbation material is out of date, you bastard!  _ Please send photos!” _

“I will,” Eddie laughs. 

“Stewart, my girl is free!” Richie yells, and there’s a faint yell back from her manager. “No more husband! No more brushing hair! Free as a motherfucking bird!”

“I’m free!” Eddie cheers.

“I miss you so much,” Richie says, after a second, soft and quiet. “I love you.”

“Fucking sap,” Eddie says. “I love you too. Don’t you have a show soon?”

“Who cares about my show when the prettiest girl in the world is going to send me photos? Preferably nude photos. Hey, I took a photography class in college once, being nude will just highlight how much you chopped off. Just an idea,” Richie says, and Eddie rolls her eyes. 

“Go do your job,” Eddie says.

“I love you!” Richie says. “Photos!”

  
  


Eddie takes a photo of herself, fully clothed, flipping Richie off.

**FROM RICHIE:** _ god im so excited to see you eat me out _

**TO RICHIE:** _ Do your job or I’ll never get you off again. _

**FROM RICHIE:** _ aye aye captain! _

  
  


“My apartment is tiny,” Eddie says, and falls face first onto Richie’s mattress. “Your bed is bigger than my kitchen, for God’s sake. I live here now.”

“You mean it?” Richie says, and copies, landing heavily next to Eddie. Eddie looks at her.

“Do you want me to?” Eddie asks. Eddie thinks she’d prefer to be here - Richie always has the heating on, and there’s blankets everywhere, and there’s Richie.

“Of course I fucking want you to!” Richie says, and Eddie giggles. “Move in with me! I’ll even help you pack up your posters!”

“I’m holding you to that,” Eddie says. “No slacking off.”

  
  


Eddie had always slept better alone. She’d given up sleeping next to Malcolm almost three weeks after the wedding, and just snuck out to the guest room once he’d fallen asleep. It’s easy to sleep next to Richie, however, and even when she feels crowded, she doesn’t want to move away.

“You need new pillows,” Eddie whispers, and Richie sighs. The pillow Eddie’s head is on is lumpy, and probably far too old for them to be using.

“Just use my boobs like every other self-respecting lesbian,” Richie says, and tugs Eddie closer. Eddie doesn’t complain, but the next morning, she demands Richie take her out to buy new pillows.

  
  


“We should get married,” Richie says, and hands Eddie her half of the takeout. Eddie’s jaw drops. 

They both look at each other for a moment, then Eddie lets her auto-pilot take over, and start to pile her food onto a plate. Richie copies, and they still stay silent, even when Richie is choosing a movie.

“I’m sorry,” Richie says. “I didn’t think- Marriage is probably something you never want to think about.”

“Yes.” Eddie says. “We should get married.”

This time Richie’s mouth drops, and then turns into a great big open mouthed smile. 

“But not- not soon. I don’t think I’m ready for a wedding,” Eddie says, and very pointedly does not think of her last wedding dress, and the cheap alcohol, and the heat. Richie doesn’t know about any of that, not really, and Eddie think she should know before they even begin to talk about a wedding. “But I do want to be married. To you.”

Richie kisses her, and knocks all of Eddie’s fortune cookies off her plate. One of them rattles oddly, and when Eddie crushes it with her foot, there’s something shiny inside.

“Did you cook my goddamn ring into a fucking fortune cookie?” Eddie shrieks, and Richie cackles, grabbing the ring and brushing off the dust, presenting it to Eddie like it hadn’t just been on the  _ ground.  _ Richie kisses the ring, and then kisses Eddie’s hand, and she’s so happy she lets Richie slid the ring onto her.

“Get me a ring too,” Richie says, after, when her mouth is full of lemon chicken. 

“You are so gross,” Eddie says, but doesn’t mention that there’s already three bookmarked pages of rings for Richie already saved on her phone.

  
  


Richie’s looking at a photo from Eddie’s last wedding when Eddie gets home.

“You look good,” Richie says. It’s stilted, awkward. Eddie drops her empty thermos in the sink, and walks over to Richie.

“We had the wedding in June,” Eddie explains. “And there was so many people. And they all- I don’t know. Expected me to be some perfect, submissive wife who would take his name.”

“June?” Richie says, and gestures to the long sleeves.

“Uh,” Eddie says. “Malcolm was big on- on modesty. The day we met I found out that he’d thrown out my dresses, and my heels, and everything that wasn’t to his standards. So, uh, yes. I wore a long sleeved dress in the middle of summer.”

Richie curses, and when she turns her head to Eddie, probably to tell her how she was going to beat up a man Eddie doesn’t even think about anymore, Eddie kisses her. Richie accepts the kiss for a minute or two, but goes back to the photo.

“You don’t look happy,” Richie says, and it hurts because she’s right.

“Why are you looking at these?” Eddie asks instead of replying. “And how?”

“Malcolm hasn’t blocked me on Facebook yet,” Richie says. “He’s only blocked my Instagram, and my Twitter. Bastard probably thinks  _ Rachel Tozier  _ is someone completely different.”

Eddie laughs, the sound a little weak, and Richie kisses her cheek.

“I know you’re different,” Eddie says. “You wouldn’t force me into an uncomfortable position just for photos. "I love you.”

“Love you,” Richie says, although she’s scowling. Eddie exits Facebook, pushes the laptop into the empty space next to Richie, and slides into her lap. Richie’s face clears, and Eddie kisses her again.

  
  


The stylist Richie has recently picked out was so much better than the old one. Eddie pulls her blankets closer to herself, then turns the volume of the interview up. 

Richie was wearing a maroon suit with flowers stitched into it - it looked absolutely beautiful, and Eddie had half a mind to text Richie and ask her to wear that exact suit to their wedding. Her hair looked brushed, which was an improvement, and the gold ring Eddie had bought for her was still on Richie’s finger.

Eddie hadn’t been sure if Richie would wear it to the interview. She hadn’t worn it outside for the first three years, terrified of the paparazzi shots.

“Is that an engagement ring?” The interviewer asks, and Richie holds up her hand, twisting it to show off the oval shaped diamond in the centre. The crowd cheers, and Richie stands up to bow. “When did you get engaged?”

“Almost four years ago?” Richie says, laughing. “I got my ring maybe two years ago.”

The interviewer pretends to do a spit take, and the laughter that comes from the audience sounds canned, faked.

“Four years you’ve hidden your fiance?” The interviewers asks, and Richie shrugs.

“It’s personal. We don’t want a publicised wedding, or relationship. Th-they’re not in anyway famous, or willing to be, so we’re keeping the relationship on a need-to-know basis,” Richie says, and she’s smiling, but she’s not happy. Eddie snuggles in deeper to her cocoon.

“Lucky man to have pinned down Trashmouth Tozier!” The interviewer says, and Richie laughs. Eddie fiddles with her ring, and turns the television off.

**TO RICHIE:** _ Your stylist needs a raise. You looked presentable for once. _

**FROM RICHIE:** _ aww babe you always know what to say  _

  
  


“I want a winter wedding,” Eddie says on New Year’s Day. Richie chokes out the mouthful of wine she’d just taken, and Eddie pats her back while she tries to regain her breath. It takes longer than Eddie would like - the reminder that Richie used to smoke, that Richie’s lungs are unhealthy, working against her.

“This year?” Richie squawks when she’s taken three deep breaths.

“Yes,” Eddie says. 

“Like- Like tomorrow? Because I can definitely do tomorrow.” Richie says, and squishes Eddie’s cheek.

“I was thinking December,” Eddie says. 

“We can do that,” Richie says, as if they haven’t been engaged for years, as if Eddie hadn’t noticed the stupid timer Richie had set up for how long it’s taking for Eddie to be ready. “We can one hundred percent do that. We can have a santa and everything.”

“No!” Eddie says, but she laughs. 

“I would’ve thought you’d want a-” Richie starts, and then stops. “I prefer winter anyway. Oh shit, babe, are you going to wear leg-warmers under your dress? Shit, that’d be hot. Both ways!”

“I was thinking a suit,” Eddie says, and Richie groans.

“No,” She drags out, and tips her head back to rest against the top of the couch. “Eddie, I’m too drunk to be horny. Let’s discuss this later.”

Eddie laughs, and kisses Richie’s throat.

“Not helping!” Richie yelps, and jumps into Eddie’s lap, half from shock, half to leer. Richie presses her face into Eddie’s neck, and hums the bridal march. Eddie’s not sure if she’s ever been this happy before.

  
  


_ “Promise to come back,” Bill says, and slices his palm open. Eddie goes to tell him all about how he’s going to die from sepsis and infection and bleeding out when Richie holds her hand. Eddie closes her mouth. _

_ They go in a circle, all cutting their palms. Richie does hers before Eddie, so she whispers encouragements into Eddie’s ear as she does it. Eddie doesn’t think hers is as deep as the others, but no one mentions it. _

_ “We’ll come back,” Stan says. _

_ “If,” Bev says, stressing the if, “If It ever comes back. We’ll be here.” _

_ “Losers forever!” Is Richie’s input, and it makes Eddie smile, even while she’s trying to think of how she’s going to hide this still bleeding wound from her mother. _

  
  


Richie is still asleep when Eddie wakes, snoring gently. There’s nothing on the calendar for today, and there’s no alarms coming from her phone, so Eddie stays cuddled up to her, warm and cozy. 

Her phone rings, and Richie’s eyes crack open, just barely.

“You can go back to sleep,” Eddie says, and brushes some of Richie’s hair away from her face. Richie makes a soft noise, and snuggles back into Eddie. Eddie answers, and as the number is unknown, she says- “Eddie Kaspbrak here.”

“Eddie!” The man on the other end says. His voice is familiar, in a far away sense, and it makes Eddie’s throat catch. “Wow, you still call yourself that! I’m Mike.”

“Mike?” Eddie says, and turns the volume down a little, as Richie’s breath begins evens out again.

“From Derry?” Mike says, and Eddie almost drops her phone.

“Derry.” Eddie repeats. She feels sick.

“It’s back, Eddie.” Mike says. “You have to come back home.”

Eddie wakes Richie when she dives for her laptop. She taps out her password as fast as she can and pulls up a flight booking website. Richie mumbles a  _ what?,  _ and she moans softly, pressing her face into Eddie’s thigh.

“Yeah.” Eddie breathes, and intertwines her fingers with Richie’s, her heart attempting to beat out of her chest. “When do you want us there?”

“Tomorrow night, preferably,” Mike says, and Eddie nods. “I have to call the others. See you, Eddie.”

“See you,” Eddie says, and decides to get business class. 

“Who was that?” Richie says, her voice heavy with sleep, and Eddie leans forward to kiss her forehead and then-

Richie.

Oh shit.

Richie’s phone rings this time, and Richie fumbles for it, answering with a “Trashmouth Tozier, yes, I fucked your dad. No, I’m not sorry.”

“Glad to hear you haven’t changed,” Comes Mike’s muffled voice. “Hi, Richie. It’s Mike. From Derry?”

“Derry,” Richie repeats. 

“Yeah. I have a reservation for tomorrow night, if you can make it.” 

“My- my wife’s booking us flights already,” Richie says, and even though they’re not married, and Eddie feels nauseous from the memories, she still feels warm at hearing Richie call her that. “My- Eddie. Holy shit.”

Richie looks at her, eyes wide.

“Yes, Eddie’s coming.” Mike says, laughing. “I’m not surprised she’s the first you remember. I’ll see you, Rich!”

“Bye,” Richie says, crawls off the bed, and then throws up into the bin. Eddie finishes tapping out her credit card details for their hotel, and grabs the glass on Richie’s side of the bed. She runs to their bathroom, fills the glass with water, and runs back. She pops out two anti-nausea tablets, and hands them over to Richie. Richie takes them, downs the entire glass, and then vomits again.

“We grew up together.” Eddie says.

“Holy shit,” Richie says.

“Brush your teeth. We need to pack for our flights,” Eddie says, and helps Richie stand up and walk to the bathroom. Richie washes her mouth out with water, and then mouthwash, and then waits for Eddie to start the timer before she starts brushing. Eddie watches them in the mirror.

There’s a memory of them doing the same thing, back when they were thirteen. Skinny teenage girls, Eddie wearing Richie’s clothes as pajamas, toothpaste around their mouths. 

When they finish, Richie drinks straight from the mouthwash bottle, gargles, spits, and then opens her mouth for Eddie’s inspection.

“Please make out with me,” She says, and pushes Eddie against the bathroom door. “Please, before we’re distracted trying to kill a stupid child-eating demonic clown. Kiss me.”

Eddie does.

**Author's Note:**

> i have a tumblr now. check me out at oncagainthennevermore and tell me how much you also love richie


End file.
